


up close and personal

by Euna



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Designer Felix, Dimilix referenced but not main focus, Dry Humping, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Model Sylvain, Photographer Dimitri, Public Hand Jobs, Rimming, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euna/pseuds/Euna
Summary: A collection of short, prompted one-shots based on my Dimisylvix Model AU thread on TwitterA mixture of Dimivain, Dimilix, Sylvix, and DimisylvixWill update sporadically.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 36
Kudos: 186





	1. Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> If you are unfamiliar with my Dimisylvix Model AU thread, feel free to check it out on my twitter page: [@Bumblevetr](https://twitter.com/Bumblevetr)  
> The gist of it is it's a modern AU that focuses on a tumultuous and budding polygamous relationship between these three.
> 
> RATINGS ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE
> 
> They all work for the same big name fashion magazine publisher. Dimitri works as one of the photographers, Sylvain is one of the models, Felix is one of their in-house designers.
> 
> This is a series of random one-shots based on prompts that can be read as part of the canon narrative or enjoyed on their own

Pairing: Dimitri/Sylvain

Rating: T for language and suggestive themes

*

Waking up in a stranger's bed is not new for Sylvain. It's safe to say he's been around the block enough times that it doesn't phase him when he does. 

Or didn't, he should say— past tense.

Waking up in Dimitri's bed, on the other hand, does. And it's not even that he's woken up naked as the day he was born that startles him, it's the fact that he's _still_ here.

Normally he wouldn't stay the night. Sylvain would come over, Dimitri would attempt to cook him dinner (which he would burn), they would order in takeout, fuck, and he would duck out just after midnight. No mess. No fuss. An established routine.

But lately things have been different; different in a way Sylvain can't quite put his finger on, because the difference has nothing to do with the way Dimitri treats him. Dimitri is as tender post-coital as he usually is, always making sure Sylvain is okay— that he didn't push him too hard, that if he needs anything he just has to ask—and it makes Sylvain want to laugh because he's more than okay, and he tells Dimitri so every time.

And Dimitri gives him one of his soft smiles when he does and kisses him tenderly until Sylvain announces he needs to leave and Dimitri insists five more minutes and Sylvain gives in because he's so goddess damned touch-starved no matter how often they do this. 

It's pathetic, he thinks, that it's never enough to satisfy him. Sylvain always needs more—but the more is something that he's unwilling to let Dimitri give him. He's not ready for it.

Except this time he said yes when Dimitri embraced him and plucked him apart, stitch by stitch, said yes when he offered to clean him as they showered afterwards, said yes when he asked him to stay the night. 

_He said yes when he should have said no._

He just can't parse _why._

And yet... the only regret he feels upon waking is that he doesn't wake up with, or before Dimitri. He stretches languidly, sprawling across the king sized bed with a hand over his belly. He wonders what time it is. 

After staring into nothing for a solid few minutes, he reluctantly tosses off the covers, cool air chilling his bare legs as his feet touch down on hardwood floor. A glance at his phone tells him it's just past nine. He gets up and tosses on a pair of Dimitri’s sweatpants.

What leads him into the kitchen is the alluring smell of coffee. Dimitri is there, peeling an apple at the centre island, and the smile he gives Sylvain when he sees him is dizzying—so bright and full of adoration that it's almost nauseating. It makes his stomach flip.

"Good morning,” he rumbles. “How did you sleep?" And the velvety timbre of his voice, pleasant and mild, sends a shiver up Sylvain's spine.

"Fine," he answers, rough from sleep. With a shudder, he rests his hands on the flat top of the island. "It's freezing in here, aren't you cold?" 

Dimitri sweeps his gaze over Sylvain, his eyes lingering longer than usual on his hips. Sylvain subconsciously runs a finger over one of the bruises there, pressing into it. They feel good. They always do.

"Aren't you?" Dimitri murmurs. 

"Maybe a little," he admits, shrugging.

Dimitri hums and grabs a mug from the cupboard. He pours him a coffee from what looks like a brand new French press, sliding the steaming cup towards him. 

"This should warm you up," he says. "Black, right?" 

"What?" He looks down at the cup, mid-yawn. "Oh. Yeah." He takes it, curling both hands around the sides for warmth. It smells delicious and decadent, with just a hint of hazelnut. But he finds the whole thing strange because Dimitri doesn't drink coffee, and neither does Felix. 

"I dunno why, but I always assumed you didn't have coffee at your place…"

"Ah… Normally I don't, so you would be right about that," Dimitri says, tossing the apple skins and core into the compost under the sink. "Does it taste okay? This is my first time using the press."

Sylvain blinks as he takes a sip. There's an underlying sweetness to the coffee that staves off most of the bitterness. He can tell the beans haven't been freshly ground, but it's still good.

"I like it," he says. "...You've never used it before?"

Dimitri looks embarrassed. His cheeks flush, and he runs a nervous hand through his hair. Sylvain has the urge to lean over and tuck one of the pieces of it behind his ear, but tightens his grip on the mug instead.

The action is so much more intimate than the base, primal urge that takes a hold of him when Dimitri pins him down, and it scares him.

"No…" Dimitri hesitates. "I just bought it recently."

His eyes widen.

"Why?"

"Because of you," he says, quietly, and Sylvain's heart thuds painfully in his chest. "You like it, and I...I thought in the event that you stayed over, I could make it for you. Or whenever you wished."

 _Like he did this morning_.

Sylvain finds he needs to brace himself against a sudden, invasive rush of affection for this man that makes his knees buckle under the weight of it.

He bought it for him. He bought it just for _Sylvain_. It shouldn't be a big deal but it is, it _is._ It's simple and thoughtful, and romantic, and so Dimitri. People don’t just do things for Sylvain out of the goodness of their hearts, there’s always a motive.

But Dimitri isn’t like that.

"Sylvain? Are you all right?" Dimitri's concerned face is suddenly _right there_ and Sylvain jerks back. He's way too hot, way too flush, and there's no way his face isn't lit up like a Christmas tree. 

"Yes," he manages to squeak out. "I'm Gucci. We're good."

He's not, but it doesn't matter because Dimitri bought a coffee press to make coffee just for him and Sylvain doesn't know how to process this. So he's just going to pretend it's not happening.

"And so's the coffee. Thanks."

Dimitri smiles again and draws him into a gentle morning kiss. 

He was right about one thing, at least: the difference isn't Dimitri.

But then... that means the difference must be him and _that_ is terrifying.

His coffee has gone cold by the time they break apart.

And that's when Sylvain realizes with dismay that he is well and truly fucked.


	2. Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri gets a little hands-on at work

Pairing: Dimitri/Sylvain

Rating: Explicit

The extended version of the bathroom scene from the twitter thread~

*

The problem with kissing Dimitri, Sylvain soon discovers, is once he starts he doesn't want to stop.

One kiss becomes two, two becomes three, and three becomes the two of them making out in the middle of the hallway at work and— he should probably not be doing this, should he?

But it doesn't really occur to him that pumping the breaks might be a good idea until he's dragged Dimitri into the nearest bathroom and, wow yeah, it's like they're picking up where they left off on Friday night.

Except he is completely coherent this time, and stopping now is the last thing on his mind.

"Sylvain?"

"Yes, your Highness?"

Dimitri makes a face at the nickname. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, closes it, opens it again to finally say, "This...is the bathroom."

"Yes it is. Very observant of you."

"Why are we—" he starts, but Sylvain swallows his response with another kiss, pushing him up against the counter.

It feels good, _really_ good to have Dimitri respond, to feel his big hands grab a hold of his ass and pull him flush against him as they kiss. 

And if Dimitri is being grabby, Sylvain figures he should have free reign to be as well. The first thing he goes for is the tie in Dimitri's hair, pulling it out and letting the hair fall loosely around his face. Sylvain draws back enough to look at him and it's... hmm. 

He decides he likes it, likes the length and the messy shag of it, with the bangs that are far too long like Dimitri doesn't know what to do with it.

Except he must be staring because Dimitri gives him a questioning look, tilting his head.

"Is there something on my face?" He asks. 

Sensing an opportunity at his fingertips, Sylvain eagerly says, "Yeah, let me get it for you," planting another kiss on him, and another, and then another, digging his hands into soft blond hair.

Dimitri laughs, muffled against his mouth. He likes it more than he thinks he should, and it makes him grin into the kiss.

"I think I got it. Ah, no wait, it's still there, hold on—" 

"Sylvain…" Dimitri says, between kisses, their lips making wet smacking noises that Sylvain can't get enough of, "We should—we need to— we need to get back to work."

He knows this isn't an appropriate place for them to do this, but they're on one of the top floors of the building and this washroom hardly gets any traffic even on the busiest days of the year.

"Uh huh," he agrees. Work can wait a little longer. "Listen, I'm just cashing in on my morning kiss, that's all."

"It's more than one now," Dimitri points out.

Dismissively, Sylvain says, "Semantics."

"And if someone comes in and sees us?"

"Oh, don't worry about that." He yanks Dimitri towards one of the stalls.

"Ah… your foolproof plan." Dimitri sounds amused, allowing himself to be dragged inside. Sylvain makes a sound between a huff and a laugh.

"It's genius. You don't like it?"

Dimitri hums, looking around the stall. It's cramped, especially with two people their size inside. Dimitri is all but backed up against the toilet.

"It reminds me of high school," he muses.

Sylvain cracks a grin, locking the door behind him. "What, did you spend a lot of time in the shitter for some reason? You always were kind of a pushover, so I could see you getting bullied a lot, too."

"Hm, no… nothing like that." He chews on his lips. They're red from where Sylvain's been sucking on them, and it's pretty hot. He's going to leave here looking utterly debauched, and Sylvain will have been the one to do that. A part of him feels delighted about that. 

It's not a secret which part that is if you know where to look.

"I had an ex who was fond of using these."

Oh, now _that_ he wasn't expecting. 

"Wait, what? You've done this before?"

"Once or twice," he admits. He knocks on the walls with a knuckle. "It's a lot less roomy in here than I remember. Of course, that could be because I've grown and you're in here as well."

"Oh. Yeah, I mean… you did fill out rather nicely," Sylvain says, giving him an appreciative once over. Dimitri actually flushes under the praise, and it— nope, no, he's going to ignore the jump his stomach makes because— no. "Especially those."

"Those?"

Sylvain points to his chest and Dimitri groans, blushing further still.

"Oh Goddess, not this again…"

"What? I like them."

"I realize that but I don't... they're not...why, exactly?"

"Oh, I dunno, they're just nice, that's all. Can I touch them?"

"I...if...if you like?"

Oh, Sylvain would very much like to. There's very little space between them, so he doesn't have far to reach either. He cups each pec happily, massaging them in his hands. If there's anything weird about fondling Dimitri's tits in a bathroom stall at nine o'clock on a Monday morning, Sylvain doesn't care.

"You're so strange," Dimitri breathes, biting his lip when Sylvain's thumbs drag over his nipples.

"What, I'm a total boob man, and these? These are great."

"Sylvain—"

"Hey don't judge, I like they way they feel."

"Clearly."

Curious, Sylvain creeps his hands towards the hem of Dimitri's shirt and before he realises what he's doing he's lifting his shirt to see them up close and personal. Dimitri startles, and Sylvain whistles appreciatively.

"First off, I wanna thank the Goddess herself for bestowing upon his Highness the gift of great tits," he says. "And secondly, may she continue to shower him with blessings of a different nature as well—"

"Sylvain, stop… please stop…" Dimitri sounds absolutely mortified, his hands covering his impossibly red face.

"I think maybe that's a valid question, actually…" Sylvain raises an eyebrow. _"Are_ you gifted anywhere else?"

From beneath Dimitri's hands Sylvain hears, "I have a gift for photography if that counts?"

"Pfft what? No, I don't mean like that. I mean… you know…"

Dimitri peeks through his fingers, Sylvain wags his eyebrows at him and he makes a pinched expression in response.

"Sylvain... Are you—are you really asking about my measurements?"

His _measurements_. He really called them that. What the fuck? How is this… why is he so…?

"Holy fuck, you're adorable," he wheezes, trying his best to keep his laughter to a minimum so as not to offend him. "Your 'measurements?'"

Though it doesn't seem to be working because Dimitri is frowning at him with an 'are you mocking me?' look on his face.

"I mean yeah that is what I'm asking, but, duuuude…"

He decides to change tactics, because, okay maybe he's a little horny (see a lot horny, actually) and insanely curious to see if Dimitri is packing, and if they're going to do something besides shoot the shit in this bathroom he best make it worthwhile, right?

"Okay, how about this if you're feeling shy… Show you mine and you show me yours?"

"You're serious…"

"It's just like show and tell," he reasons. "It's not like we gotta do anything with them, and I doubt you've got anything to worry about. I'll go first. How about that?"

"Sylvain, wh—"

He tunes out the rest of Dimitri's question because, nonchalant attitude notwithstanding, Sylvain is fucking nervous about this. He knows he's far from inadequate as far as length and girth are concerned, but he still feels the innate anxiety associated with showing off the most private parts of yourself to someone for the first time.

But it's too late to back out now because he's already making a show of unclasping his belt, all saucy smiles, and dropping trow in front of Dimitri. It's a little fucking cold in the bathroom, but even that isn't enough to quell the aching heat in his loins from seeing Dimitri go slack jawed and stare at him.

"Oh shit," he mutters quietly, covering his mouth. His blue eyes grow dark as he stares Sylvain down, and Sylvain casually leans against the side wall. 

"Not bad, huh? Okay, now it's your turn. Let's see what you got, big guy."

Except Sylvain doesn't get to find out what he's got because the next thing he knows Dimitri is on him like flies on shit, and he really wishes he could think of a better comparison than that but he can't because—

" _Oh, fuck_."

That's a hand around his dick. 

That's _Dimitri's_ hand around his dick and he's—

He's twisted Sylvain around to crowd him against the stall door, and Sylvain has to brace himself so he doesn't get crushed against it. Dimitri noses the back of his neck, all hot breath, and a hint of tongue drags across the sensitive skin at the base of his scalp.

"Holy shit, dude. Um—"

"...green or red, Sylvain?" Dimitri breathes, and what the fuck is he— oh. Oh wait.

"Green," he says. "Green for sure. Fuck. You just—I wasn't expecting it. Yes. Yes, go for it."

Yeah, he did not expect this would be the way his Monday morning would go. Not in a million years. Not with his face and hands pressed against the bathroom stall door and Dimitri's hand between his legs, working him to complete hardness with every stroke _._

_Holy fuck, holy fuck._

Sylvain wonders if there's a switch he's accidentally flipped because Dimitri was like this Friday night as well once he got his hands on Sylvain; like a beast that's cornered its prey and is ready to devour at a moment's notice. Would this have happened if they'd continued? 

Dizzily he wonders still, would Dimitri have fucked him in that dingy nightclub bathroom if they'd both had full control of their faculties? If Dimitri hadn't been such a Goddess damned boundary respecting cockblock?

He may never know the answer to that, but it doesn't matter because again, holy fuck, Dimitri has very large hands, and they feel even bigger when one is wrapped around him. He could probably die on the spot. It's a little dry, making it more pain than pleasure, however, so he should do something before he gets his dick rubbed raw. Which, like, if he didn't have to work today, he wouldn't care so much about.

"Hang on," he groans, bucking into his hand regardless, hips moving of their own volition. "Shit. Can you… give me your hand for a second?"

Dimitri makes an inquiring noise into his neck but lets go of him and offers it to Sylvain. Sylvain licks his palm, grip tightening on his wrist when Dimitri flinches and tries to pull it back in surprise. He hears the man's forceful intake of breath when he lathes his tongue over his fingers, drawing them into his mouth. He sucks on them with a moan.

Sylvain's never been one to get off on having someone's hands in his mouth, but he's starting to see the appeal as far as Dimitri is concerned—how talented and, honestly, attractive his long and thin fingers are and how full they make him feel. 

A thought, unbidden and unwelcome springs to mind: thinner and longer they are than Sylvain's, if they held hands, how delicate might Dimitri's hands look intertwined with his? How well would they fit together if they did?

He stamps it out as quickly as it comes, though. He doesn't need that romantic shit right now.

Dimitri slips his fingers out of Sylvain's mouth with a wet slurp and curves them around him again, slicking up his shaft, and it's a little better this time—spit makes for shit lube, but it's the best they've got.

He vocalizes his appreciation with a loud moan.

"Damn… had a lot of practice with this, huh?" He pants, condensation forming on the metal door where his breath hits. "I always thought you'd be the kind of guy who'd wait for marriage to do any of this shit."

Dimitri squeezes the head of his cock in response and Sylvain hisses through his teeth, fingers curling into tight fists.

"It's been ten years," he hears Dimitri say, the vibrations through his chest rumbling against Sylvain's back. He's so close to him now he's all but rutting against Sylvain's ass, fabric sliding against bare skin. "Perhaps you don't know me anymore either, hmm?"

Goddess he _hates_ when he does that. He's had just about enough of Dimitri turning his words against him for one morning, thank you very much.

"You know, I don't appreciate when you do that," he mutters. "In fact, I can't fucking stand when you—" he cuts himself off with a shout when Dimitri does something with his fingers just how Sylvain likes it and Dimitri—

Dimitri must think he's being too loud because he clamps his free hand tightly over Sylvain's mouth, muffling the high pitched whimpers he's making.

"Shh… Sylvain you need to be quiet," he whispers, dragging his hand in an exaggerated stroke up his length. His thumb works itself over the head, smearing precome in its wake and Sylvain exhales through his nose, dropping his forehead against the door and spreading his legs further apart.

Quiet for who? He wants to ask. There's no one in the bathroom with them!

And chances are no one is gonna come in here anyway.

And then…

And _then_...

_And fucking then—_

As if fate decides that today Sylvain is its unwilling victim, the door to the bathroom swings open and Sylvain freezes like a deer caught in headlights. His senses are suddenly on high alert and he's hyper-aware of the sound of footsteps on linoleum not ten feet away from their stall. He holds his breath.

Dimitri does not still his hand, and he has to physically grab him by the wrist to try to get him to stop. But this only results in Dimitri squeezing his hand over Sylvain's mouth even harder and crowding him further against the door.

And okay… the manhandling thing is really really hot and he could get used to that, but it's not helping their current situation!

His breath shudders when he can't hold it any longer. Can this person hear them? Can they hear the slide of Dimitri's palm over his dick? It sounds so incredibly loud in his ears, there's no way they can't. 

Ugh. With any luck, maybe they'll just think it's some weirdo jacking off in the stall and not think to investigate further.

Whoever it is decides to use the urinal, thank Sothis, so they at least don't need to contend with that. Dimitri is not letting up on him at all, and this is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. It's bordering on torture, and fuck— 

He speeds his hand up, grip tighter than before and Sylvain just about bashes his head off the door. He could definitely get used to this if they did it more often, oh _damn_. With Dimitri's hips slotted against him, he knows he's not the only one getting into it, and whatever's pushing up against his ass has his imagination running wild. He wants to see it. Maybe taste it. It must be big, it _feels_ big. His mouth opens under Dimitri's hand at the thought. _Goddess, how big is he?_

Their uninvited guest takes a leak, flushes, washes their hands and, after what feels like ages, finally leaves.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Dimitri takes his hand off Sylvain's mouth, and he feels like he can breathe again. Dimitri strokes his chin, wet with drool, affectionately, before sliding his fingers back between Sylvain's teeth. 

"You did well…" he coos. "Just a little more, okay?"

His fist moves with purpose now, and Sylvain rocks with it, making the most embarrassing noises as he does.

Quiet, he'd said.

Hah.

He's never been quiet in his life.

And he's certainly not at all quiet when he finishes, a wanton moan spilling forth when one quick flick of the wrist has him coming with a start.

White splatters over the door, and the floor between his feet, and he can _hear_ it when it does—he hasn't come this hard in a long time.

Dimitris fingers slip from his mouth as he strokes him through the last of his release, gently kissing the back of his neck, and murmuring softly into the skin. When he backs off, the air drops several degrees and Sylvain finds himself instantly missing the warmth.

"Holy shit, Dimitri…" His chest heaves as he turns around, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. "That was… damn."

He sees Dimitri's looking not at him but at his hand, and Sylvain, too blissed out to be embarrassed, just laughs.

"Oh yeah… you might wanna wash that..."

Dimitri seems to snap out of whatever daze he's in at the sound of Sylvain's voice, and his face colours slightly. Just like that, he's back to his usual self.

"Ah...yes, yes of course…"

With his clean hand he unfurls some toilet paper and wipes his hand off the best he can. Sylvain watches him, hoisting his pants back up and tucking himself back in. 

"Hey, so ummm... Do you....y'know…"

"Hmm?" Dimitri raises his eyebrows, and, having cleaned the worst of Sylvain's spend off, tosses the wad of paper into the toilet.

Sylvain gestures to Dimitri's very prominent and obvious erection.

"Need some help with that?"


	3. Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix likes the marks Dimitri leaves on Sylvain

Main pairing: Sylvain/Felix

Implied Pairing(s): Dimitri/Felix, Dimitri/Sylvain

Rating: Mature, warnings for asphyxiation kink

*

It happens as they're getting ready for bed.

Felix gives no thought to pulling his turtleneck over his head in front of Sylvain, no thought of preparing the other man for what he might see when he does, no thought that what he _does_ see could be interpreted as anything other than what it actually is. He's tired, the bed is comfortable, and he's spending the night with his best friend, and there's really no need to think of anything else.

So the gasp that comes from Sylvain's mouth when he catches a glimpse of Felix is a surprise, the man pausing in his own attempts to undress.

" _Holy shit, Felix_. What the hell are _those?"_

 _Those_ , as Sylvain refers to them, are a ring of bruises strung about Felix's neck in a twisted facsimile of a necklace. He knows how bad they look, knows how mottled the skin is in purples and blues, knows that under any other circumstance Sylvain would have the right to worry.

This is not, however, one of those times.

"Hm?"

"Did Dimitri do that to you?" He steps closer, his mouth drawing into a thin line. "I'll kill him, what the fuck, Felix?"

Sylvain sounds pissed, and Felix gets it. He does. But he's sleepy and he needs to nip this in the bud before Sylvain actually does try to murder Dimitri in cold blood over a misunderstanding because he thinks that Dimitri is—

No, he won't finish that thought. 

He raises a hand to feel at his neck, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he remembers how he got these bruises in the first place.

_….laying back, pressed into the mattress, folded in half with legs spread to accommodate the man slamming into him without mercy, his knees all but knocking into the underside of his chin._

_Dimitri had been fucking him just the way he likes it, the way he'd been able to coax out of him when the man had initially wanted to go slow._

_Dimitri always insists on going slow at first, insists on making love to Felix, as he says. But the truth of the matter is thus: Dimitri is made for this. Beneath that princely façade of his is a beast, and the beast is always ready to strike._

_And Felix, who never does anything by halves, wanted to see how far he could push him, how far he could bend the man without breaking him._

_"Put your hand around my neck," he ordered with a gasp. And though reluctant, Dimitri had complied, resting it there, his thumb gentle, caressing and at odds with the brutal pace at which his hips snap against Felix._

_"Not like that," Felix hissed. "Squeeze it."_

_"Felix… are you sure?"_

_"Yes, just do it."_

_He did, the grip of his fingers so incredibly strong Felix knew he would bruise the next day. But Felix loved it, leaned into it, bucked his hips against Dimitri even as his mind grew hazy, even as his lungs burned for air and his vision frayed around the edges, his pleasure mounting with each of Dimitri's thrusts until he—_

_"_ —elix? Felix? You still with me, buddy?"

He snaps out of his reverie, red and aroused at the memory, to Sylvain waving a hand in front of his face. He looks angry and concerned all at once and Felix _should_ offer the man an explanation before he loses it completely.

"They're not—" he starts, brushing Sylvain's hands away in annoyance when he tries to tilt Felix's chin up to get a better look. "These aren't—They just _look_ bad, okay? I asked for them. They don't hurt."

They do, but it's a pleasant kind of ache, similar to what he feels in his muscles the day after an intense workout. Having sex with Dimitri is its own workout and Sylvain should know this by now. He bears similar marks to Felix, and Felix knows how, despite all of his posturing and denial about his relationship with Dimitri, he turns to putty around him; supple, pliable and compliant like clay beneath a potter's skillful hands.

"I don't know why you're so surprised," he mutters, his hand finding Sylvain's ass and giving it a squeeze, causing the other man to jump. "I know how he gets with you, you have them, too."

"Yeah, okay but, not around my neck like that." He pauses, trying again to touch Felix's neck. This time he lets him. His fingers are gentle, light strokes causing pleasant tickles to rise up his spine. "I didn't realize you were uh, into choking. That's… huh." He makes a thoughtful noise.

"I don't shame you for your kinks, so don't even fucking start, Gautier," Felix warns.

"I'm not! I swear. I just…" he trails off, mumbling somewhat dejectedly, "I don't think I can do that for you, though, if you're into it but uh… unless you really wanted me to, I could try…?"

Felix sighs, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "No, it's fine. I'm not going to ask you to do something you're uncomfortable with. Let's just… get some sleep."

As they both resume undressing and getting into their sleeping clothes, it becomes apparent that Felix has a lot more to show off than Sylvain does. Being in the public eye and in front of the camera, it makes sense Dimitri would leave his marks on Sylvain with more discretion. With Felix however, he paints his canvas without inhibition or fear. There are _a lot_ of them, and he...

He... 

He likes them. Loves to admire them in the mirror for days later. Even misses them when they fade and disappear, and would not be opposed to Dimitri immortalizing each bite, each print he makes with his camera.

Yes, he loves Dimitri's claims on his own body, but he's realizing that he likes to see them on Sylvain's, too.

His eyes keep wandering to the smatter of bruises at the crest of Sylvain's hips; the ones he knows travel below the waistband of his undershorts. Further still he can see, upon closer examination, hand prints around his ankles. There are a few errant bites and nicks around his chest, as well, perhaps where they'd gotten carried away or Dimitri had forgotten himself. He wonders how Sylvain earned them all, and heat throbs between his legs.

He has the sudden urge to touch him.

"Sylvain," he murmurs, sidling up to the man as he fluffs out the pillows and draws back the bedsheets for them. One hand finds his hip while the other strokes a bite just above his ribs. Sylvain's breath hitches when he applies pressure to both.

"Fe?" He says, hesitant and uncertain. They've been slowly navigating through this relationship thing bit by bit at Felix's behest, and it's unusual for him to initiate contact. "I thought you said—"

"Can I touch you?" It comes out small, almost breathless. Sylvain stills in his arms.

Unless it concerns Dimitri, Sylvain would never say no, _could_ never say no to Felix.

"Yeah. Whatever you need, baby," he hears him reply, just as softly. Felix frowns, pinching the bruise at his hip.

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry."

They end up sprawled across the bed, hands roaming over each other's skin, lips pressed to fading scratches and blemishes, tongues lapping at hickeys, old and new. 

Sylvain seems fond of the ones at Felix's throat in particular. He covers one of the marks with his mouth, drawing skin between his lips and Felix arches into the contact, moaning in both pain and pleasure. 

"You have so many," Sylvain breathes. And he must find the marks as thrilling as Felix does, because he moves on to another and Felix can feel his heart racing rapidly underneath his palm where Felix's hand is braced against his chest. 

"Mm," Felix agrees, laying on top of him and sliding their hips together insistently, much more alert than before. "Can we…?"

"Oh… oh fuck. Um, yeah." Sylvain grabs his ass with both hands, grinding against him. "Like this?"

"Yes…" Felix's face heats up. Doing this with Sylvain is much more nerve-wracking than with Dimitri. He's been taking little steps though, breaking down the walls that form the boundary between them as simply friends. 

Sylvain is ready for more, although he wouldn't dare ask Felix or push him. It's written on his face when he looks at Felix, and in the hands that splay across his backside and dig into his flesh. Their most intimate parts are separated only by thin fabric, but it's enough of a barrier for Felix's piece of mind.

They move against one another, Felix fighting back a groan as small waves of pleasure cause his hips to jerk involuntarily against Sylvain. He hides his face in his neck, shuts his eyes, and grits his teeth tight, but it's not enough to dampen his quiet cries.

After several minutes of rutting against one another, Felix's body feels like it's on fire, and he's close.

"Goddess, yes," Sylvain moans as Felix increases their pace. Impatient, and wanting to finish. "You feel so good, Fe. You—"

"Shut up," Felix rasps, covering Sylvain's mouth. "Shut up… shut up, don't— _shit!"_

A well timed thrust is what does it for him, his thighs tensing as warm wetness seeps through his underwear. Sylvain follows him shortly, and they rock against one another, until they're both completely spent.

Felix sighs, and removes his hand from Sylvain's mouth, brushing his bangs out of his face and sitting up. Sylvain chases him when he does, cradling the back of his neck and drawing him into a brief kiss. 

He rests their foreheads together, hand idly petting Felix's hair as their breathing settles. They're quiet for some time, content to relish in the other's presence while the afterglow is still fresh.

They'll have to move and clean up, but for now Felix is happy to stay like this. At least, until his embarrassment kicks in over what he's just done. He'll have to thank Dimitri later, he thinks.

"Hey Fe?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you, buddy."

Felix huffs a laugh. "I know. Me too."


	4. Rendez-vous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just two dudes hooking up and not having feelings

Pairing: Dimitri/Sylvain

Rating: Explicit

.

"Are you going to fuck me, Your Highness?" Sylvain groans, gripping at the cotton of his freshly washed bed sheets. "Or are you just going to play with my ass all day?"

Sylvain has quickly realized that there's no polite way of asking your boyfriend's boyfriend (who is technically also your own boyfriend but Sylvain will _never_ call him that) to come over absolutely destroy your ass, so it's a good thing Sylvain doesn't have to mind his manners when he invites Dimitri over to fuck.

But Dimitri, damn him, always insists on drawing it out first. Always teases Sylvain, making him gasp and overwhelming him with pleasure first until he's practically crying for it.

They haven't quite gotten there yet today, as Sylvain is still mostly coherent, but he's certainly very close.

Dimitri looks up from between Sylvain's legs, where his large hands are lifting him by his hips, and splayed over the width of his ass. His chin and mouth are covered in spit; shiny and messy and gloriously wet. 

"That depends," he says, sharpening his tongue and licking up between Sylvain's cheeks and the back of his sack. Sylvain shudders. 

"On?"

"How much you're willing to beg me for it."

Sylvain narrows his eyes. This is the game he wants to play, is it?

"I could just kick you out, you know. It's _my_ apartment."

"You could," he agrees, thoughtfully skimming a thumb over Sylvain's hole, pressing in just the tip. His hole grips at it eagerly, and Sylvain thinks he's probably already lost this round and that Dimitri knows it. "But then you'll be alone. Cold, and hard and nothing and no one but your own hand to keep you company."

"I could find something. Or someone."

"Mm. But you wouldn't. Find someone."

"I could call Felix," he says. "He'd come over."

"But would he fuck you?" Dimitri's eyes taunt him, his words digging into his insides like a knife. "The way you want?"

 _The way I do_ , is what Dimitri doesn't say.

He knows Felix wouldn't. They both do.

Not yet.

"No, but we would find some other way. And I have toys, too, I could —" Dimitri stretches him with his thumb and Sylvain sucks in a sharp breath.

"But that's not what you want is it?" Dimitri purrs. He shifts into a kneeling position and lowers Sylvain onto his lap, the crease of his ass resting against Dimitri's cock. Purposely, teasingly, canting his hips forward, Dimitri rubs the head of his cock against the sensitive furrow of Sylvain's hole with a moan. "You want someone that can bend you in half and stuff you full, don't you?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd go that far, buddy," Sylvain says, thrusting back against Dimitri, "but—" Sylvain yelps as Dimitri slaps his flank, the sharp sting of skin on skin contact making his cock jump eagerly. "Okay, okay fine, you're right! You're right!"

Dimitri chuckles and smooths his skin with a gentle hand, a smug expression on his face. Sylvain hates that self-satisfying look more than anything - and it looks even worse on Dimitri's face than it does his own.

"You're a dick," Sylvain says, even as he spreads himself for Dimitri. 

Dimitri's lubricated fingers slip in easily, two at first, and then a third that has Sylvain whimpering as Dimitri nudges at his prostate with each careful slide. He rocks into Dimitri's hand encouragingly, addicted to the way his fingers feel when they pry him open, or wrap around his cock, or stuff inside Sylvain's mouth just as he's about to come.

They're delightful really. Second of course to Dimitri's cock, and perhaps even his mouth (the discovery of Dimitri's ageusia an unexpected surprise the first time he sucked Sylvain off and swallowed without so much as a wince) if Sylvain was pressed to rank them.

He's a generous… Sylvain doesn't want to say _lover,_ because they don't make love, they fuck (like frenemies with benefits). He's a generous… whatever he is. Rough when Sylvain needs him to be, gentle when he least expects him to be. 

(He's begrudgingly becoming more and more aware of the thrall Felix seems to be under when it comes to Dimitri because of the latter.)

Sometimes, when Sylvain forgets - forgets he's supposed to keep Dimitri at arm's length and forgets he's supposed to be guarding his heart - he finds himself wrapped in the cocoon of Dimitri's embrace, and thinks that perhaps Dimitri's feelings _are_ something he can accept.

Until he returns to his senses and he untangles their mess of limbs, dresses himself in his crumpled, abandoned clothes and leaves without a word. But like a moth to flame, or the waves of the ocean to the shore, it's inevitable that he returns again and again to receive his punishment.

If it didn't feel so good, he tells himself, as Dimitri slings Sylvain's legs over his shoulders and slides his cock inside with little resistance, Dimitri wouldn't be worth his time or effort.

And it does. Feel good, that is.

"Yeah," says Sylvain, breathless as Dimitri fucks him, "yeah that's… shit, that's good. A little more to the - _fuck! Yes!"_ His mouth drops open and he groans, arms wrapped about Dimitri's neck as one of his heels digs into Dimitri's shoulder. The force of each thrust is enough to make him forget his misgivings about Dimitri, at least in the moment.

And Dimitri is _very_ good at making him think of nothing else but his impending orgasm, cock slamming into Sylvain so deep he sees stars. Feels a spot of drool drip down his chin that he tries to suck back into his mouth. 

"I'm the only one who can give you what you want, aren't I?" Dimitri all but snarls at him. "Fuck you just the way you like it?" 

His nails bite into the meat of Sylvain's hips, just blunt enough not to break skin, but Sylvain knows they're going to bruise. It's one area of Sylvain's body he allows Dimitri to mark without repercussion, otherwise he knows he would be covered the same way Felix always is when Dimitri gets his hands on him.

Sylvain moans, mashing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss in lieu of a reply.

He envies them for that, though he is loathe to admit it. He tells himself it's because it should be _him_ leaving those bruises on Felix's skin, not Dimitri.

But, in the darkest corner of his mind, he knows it's not Dimitri he envies, but _Felix_. He envies that Felix can freely sport the evidence of Dimitri's desire while Sylvain must practice discretion - all for the sake of his fucking job.

He wants Dimitri to devour him, desecrate every inch of Sylvain's skin he can, if only so that he can feel Dimitri's burning gaze rake over his body with sheer delight and pride whenever he looks his way.

It's selfish, but Sylvain has never been shy about taking what he wants. He wants Dimitri's eyes on him. Wants his attention whenever he can have it.

His attention, but not his affection.

He can't take it when Dimitri slows the frantic pace of his hips into a gentle, but purposeful roll as he turns their aggressive kissing into something slow and deep and achingly _tender_ that Sylvain can feel it all the way down his legs to the tips of his toes. 

It rattles him, and he's powerless not to be engulfed by it.

"No," he says, finally breaking their kiss. " _Fuck_ me, Dimitri. Don't do that. Don't kiss me like - _" you’re in love with me? Like you care?_ Sylvain doesn't know how to finish that sentence. "- like I'm Felix," he settles for.

"Fine," Dimitri snaps.

And it's the last intelligent thing Sylvain can say or think before Dimitri rears back and fucks him like he means it.

.

His voice is gone by the time Dimitri finishes with him.

  
  



End file.
